Dance
by crimsonrosepetals
Summary: Doumeki/Watanuki; Because for now, this would be enough. So for now, they danced


Title: Dance

Author: crimsonrosepetals

Summary: Doumeki/Watanuki; Because for now, this would be enough. So for now, they danced.

Rating: T

Pairing/s & Characters: Doumeki/Watanuki, ClowYuuko, Real!SyaoranReal!Sakura, Kurogane/Fai, Kunogi Himawari.

Warning/s: AU; Dreamfic; NOT a Songfic

Disclaimer: If only xxxHOLiC were mine…

Author's Notes: This has been in the works ever since the second week of February; I'm so glad I've finally finished it. Inspired by "So Close", a song from the movie Enchanted, sung by Jon McLaughlin. Also, is probably my longest one-shot so far. I hope you all enjoy it; please be nice if you plan to leave a review.

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It was another one of those dreams. The somewhat odd but not-unpleasant ones that you had only every once in a while that leave you wondering why you even had it in the first place.

It was exactly that kind of dream – rare, and a little strange, but very far from displeasing. In fact, Doumeki rather enjoyed that dream. He'd already had it a few times before, around once or maybe twice; enough for him to know exactly how it would go.

It would always start in the same way: a bit hazy and unfocused, and then begin to gain more and more clarity the deeper he fell into his sleep. The further he fell into the fantasy.

The setting was always the same as well: a large, rectangular hall, handsomely decorated with the furnishings of a ball. The vast expanse of the room was illuminated – just enough – by the soft, golden-yellow lights that shone from the main chandelier, as well as from the smaller ones that hung from the ceiling. There were a number of windows on each side of the room – high and wide – that opened into the balconies overlooking the evening sky. They were covered by thin, clear, gossamer sheets. On one side of the hall was a long table, filled with exquisite foods, and fine selections of wine; on the other was a full orchestra which played many a slow, flowing waltz. The center of the room was cleared of any furniture, open to all those couples who wished to dance.

Doumeki would be standing quietly in one corner of the large room, dressed in a deep burgundy button-down dress shirt with a black tie, and a dark overcoat, black slacks and black dress shoes, observing all of the other guests at the ball.

Kunogi would be there, in a long, light-pink evening gown; her auburn-brown hair cascading down her back in elegant curls. Tanpopo would be on her shoulder twittering to her, and she would smile at him, looking happier than Doumeki had ever seen her. She would look very pretty. As would Yuuko, who would be wearing a crimson halter dress, with a long slit on one side of the skirt that emphasized her curves and her long legs; her ebony-black hair held up by a pair of chopsticks, with a few escaped strands framing her face.

Doumeki had been surprised – the very first time he had the dream – to find The Witch accompanied by a strange (but powerful, Doumeki thought immediately upon seeing him) man, her left hand poised delicately atop his right arm, the other holding a flute of champagne. He was with her still, this time; a tall, bespectacled, but handsome male with long black hair, blue eyes and a secretive smile. He would be wearing a pair of black trousers and a dark-coloured frock coat with its buttons left open. Inside, he wore a plain white dress shirt under a blue waistcoat, and a white ascot-knotted cravat. They look good together, Doumeki always thought every time he saw them, and it was fairly obvious that they were very fond of each other; in love even. It was in the way her claret eyes sparkled, the way his smile became warmer, when her gaze met his. Doumeki often wondered who the man was, and where he is in the waking world. He was certain he'd never met him before, however he couldn't shake of the feeling that he did know him, or at least should.

The strange man wouldn't be the only one he'd get that feeling from, and he definitely wasn't the only person in his dream that he didn't recognize. There would be four others: one girl, one boy and two older men. The two kids Doumeki would always see dancing, the girl's right hand clasped in the boy's left; the boy's right hand against the small of the girl's back, the girl's left resting lightly on his shoulder. She looked no older than fourteen or perhaps fifteen, and had light-brown hair and jade-green eyes, and she wore a purple-coloured dress that had a lot of ruffles. He, the boy with dark-brown hair and russet eyes, was probably just her age as well, and wore black slacks, black dress shoes, and a black vest over a long-sleeved white button-down shirt. They would be blushing, stealing shy glances at each other as they danced, and blushing even deeper but smiling anyway whenever they caught each others' glance. They too looked very cute together; looked as if they were meant to be hand-in-hand with each other, dancing.

The two other people – the two men – on the other hand would just be standing by the table of food, watching the two children dance. The taller was the more serious-and-irritable-looking one of the pair, and would have short, spiky, black hair; he'd be wearing a simple black tux – the blazer left open – with a white undershirt and a dark-red tie, the same colour as his eyes. Every now and then, he would take his attention off of the couple on the floor in favour of looking at his companion. The male beside him – a fair-skinned blond in a white tux and a blue tie that matched his eyes – wouldn't seem to notice when he did, his attention never wavering from the children, though it would be obvious to Doumeki that he was also deep in thought. There would be a strange mix of emotions in the blond's gaze: a loving fondness for the couple he was watching, a kind of melancholic sadness that was also present in his shallow smile, but most of all, a deep-seated longing, though for what, Doumeki wouldn't be able to say.

Left on his own, the man could have probably spent the entire duration of the dream lost in whatever it was he was dwelling on. Perhaps even really _would _have. However, a tanned hand would suddenly appear before him, startling him out of his contemplation; beside him, the darker-skinned male would wait wordlessly for his reaction. Questioning blue eyes – the colour of lapis lazuli – would meet determined garnet ones, their owner staring the other down.

Doumeki would watch the silent exchange closely, though he had already memorized the outcome: the blond would blink – slowly; once, twice – before hesitantly placing his hand atop the one offered to him. The taller man would then grip the fair, slender fingers tightly in his darker, more calloused ones, and would tug his companion – none too gently –off towards one of the large windows and out into the balcony, grumbling about moody, idiotic mages. His companion would follow him quietly, his head slightly bowed so that his saffron-coloured bangs fell over the top of his face somewhat, though it did nothing to effectively hide the faintest shade of red forming on his pale cheeks; the emotions in his eyes losing the edge of melancholic longing, his fingers curling more securely, more comfortably around the ones that held them.

Doumeki never wondered what happened between the two, when they finally reached the balcony and were away from prying eyes, though he would never really know. He did know – or rather, assuredly believe – however, that the two of them were destined to be with each other. Just like Yuuko and her companion; just like the children.

(Just like _him _and Doumeki).

Of course _he _would be there. Hewould always be the last one Doumeki would see, although the Archer was sure, – even on the very first time he had dreamt this dream – that the Seer would be present. And he always was.

Initially, he would be hidden by a crowd of nameless, faceless shadows in tailored suits and brightly-coloured dresses; then, they all would disperse, revealing _him_. In a pair of black trousers, black dress shoes, a crisp white dress shirt underneath a dove-grey waistcoat, a dark coat over it and a deep-blue cravat around his neck. Standing quietly behind them, halfway to where Doumeki was waiting.

Watanuki wouldn't seem to have noticed him at first; his dual-coloured eyes fixed resolutely on the marble floor, before he'd lift them slowly, steadily, to meet Doumeki's gaze head-on.

For a moment, they would both be still, just staring the other down. Then, Doumeki would take one step forward – it made sense that even in a dream, it would still have to be him who'd need to make the first move – followed by another, and another, until he was making his way through the room towards the other teen, not once breaking eye contact with him.

He would stop exactly an arm's length away from Watanuki, and once again would just look at him, before raising a hand slowly towards the younger teen: an invitation. The dual-coloured eyes would shift from gazing at Doumeki's amber ones to the hand before them; their owner still doubtful and undecided (and afraid). The Archer would wait on him unwaveringly, because he already knew – he'd always known – what the Seer's reply would be. A pale hand would place itself cautiously in the proffered one; tanned fingers would curl firmly around the thinner, lighter ones. Then Doumeki would lead Watanuki to the center of the room.

He would pull the other close to him, his right arm around the smaller one's waist, his left hand still clasping the other one's right. Watanuki wouldn't fight him; would just rest his left hand atop Doumeki's shoulder, and let himself be led in their dance. All the while still meeting Doumeki's stare the way he never would – the way he never could – in real life; all his thoughts and emotions at every turn and every step and every tightening of Doumeki's hold on him as they danced reflected, clear as moonlight, in his blue-and-yellow eyes for the other to see.

They would not speak. No words would pass their lips, but Doumeki would hear in every shuddering breath that his partner took, the closer their bodies pressed together, everything he'd been waiting for the other to say. Everything Watanuki was frightened to. And with every press of their bodies, he strengthens his resolve to wait till the other was ready, no matter how long it would take.

Because for now, this would be enough. So for now, they danced. And patiently, Doumeki waited for his dream to reach its end.

There would be no warning chimes; no clocks would strike twelve midnight, nor would the music stop to play. But he and Watanuki would know it's time that their dance end. Steadily, they would still in their waltz and step away from each other till their bodies barely touched; but Doumeki would remain holding on to the pale hand still clasped in his and Watanuki would do little to take it back. And gently, Doumeki would close his eyes, and lift the hand to his lips, and brush a fleeting kiss upon the back of the Seer's palm, before slowly bringing it down and letting go. And he'd open his eyes to see the shyest, loveliest smile on Watanuki's lips, just before everything dissolves to white. The music and the memory of Watanuki's smile the very last things to fade away.

The morning after Doumeki dreams that dream, he wakes up feeling warm; as if he'd been holding onto something during the night.

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This morning, Watanuki wakes up feeling the same warmth he's only felt twice before – as if someone had been holding him in his sleep – and the back of his palm tingles just the slightest bit – as if it had been kissed.

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There we are; all done. Thank you for reading and, if you please, leave a comment before you leave.


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